


The Unexpected Guest Job

by Karios



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Leverage
Genre: Birthday Presents, Case Fic, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen, Hospitals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-19 19:45:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17607788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karios/pseuds/Karios
Summary: “I needed help with Alec's birthday present, so I stole you—both of you.”“That's not usually how this works,” muttered the Doctor.But as long as he's in Portland, the Doctor mind as well help Leverage take down an unscrupulous medical director.





	The Unexpected Guest Job

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rivulet027](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rivulet027/gifts).



The first sign was the wind whipping through the open windows, pushing gusts of air into the building and sending the curtains snapping violently against the walls. The tableware and dishes rattled on the tables. What few customers were there in the mid-morning lull slipped under the tables.

From his place in the kitchen, Eliot said, “Doesn't feel like an earthquake.”

Parker beamed, declaring, “That's because it's not an earthquake!” A very distinctive engine grinding noise rang out through the brewpub. Hardison jumped up and ran out, Parker not far behind him.

“Happy birthday!” Parker looped her arms around Hardison’s shoulders and hugged him close for a second. “Be right back. I wanna get Eliot.”

Hardison gave Parker a wobbly nod, never taking hIs eyes off the materializing police box.

The Doctor stumbled out.

Hardison gathered up the Doctor in a bone-crushing hug. “Doctor!”

The Doctor grimaced. “Ow.”

“Sorry.” Hardison released him reluctantly. “I'm just so excited to see you. Permission to ruffle?” His fingers hovered above the Doctor's spiky hair.

“No,” the Doctor squeaked, taking a half step back. He put on his glasses, peering at Hardison. “I'm sorry, have we met?”

“No. Not exactly. You’re a story here. Well _stories_. There's books, radio plays, comics, a television show! You're prettier than David Tennant though—he plays your regeneration in this universe. He's a very nice man; I think you'd approve,” rambled Hardison.

“What?” asked the Doctor.

Before Hardison could reply, Parker burst back through the doors of the brewpub onto the scene, a reluctant Eliot in tow.

“Nice replica,” Eliot said. “And cool touch, hiring an impersonator.” He eyed the Doctor critically. “Though he doesn’t have quite as sharp a nose as the original actor. It's very distinctive.”

The Doctor and Parker scoffed simultaneously.

“I am not an impersonator!”

“And I don't steal forgeries,” insisted an equally indignant Parker. “That's the actual TARDIS.”

“She's beautiful,” injects Hardison in a dreamy tone.

“And of course he wouldn’t look exactly like the actor! They're not the same person, Eliot!” Parker huffed as though she thought Eliot was being purposely dense.

Hardison cracked up.

Eliot ignored them both, stomped over to the TARDIS and yanked open her doors, prompting a chorus of “Heys!” from Parker, Hardison, and the Doctor. The TARDIS was dark and empty inside.

“Looks like a replica to me.” Eliot shook his head.

The Doctor rushed back toward the TARDIS in dismay, running a hand along one of the outer wood panels.

“She'll need a reboot because he’s in the wrong universe, as I was trying to explain before you two busted on out here.” Hardison turned back toward the Doctor. “Doctor, these are my best friends, Eliot and Parker.” He pointed them out in turn.

“You came!” Parker gave the Doctor the same fond smile she normally reserved for large stacks of cash or a particularly tricky safe, and Hardison could have melted.

“I came because I got a distress call on my psychic paper,” complained the Doctor, holding the leather bound object up for inspection. Eliot nodded at it.

‘From _me_ ,” said Parker. “I needed help with Alec's birthday present, so I stole you—both of you.”

“That's not usually how this works,” muttered the Doctor, scratching the back of his neck.

“We're very sorry about this.” Hardison nudged Eliot and Parker until they apologized, too. “Do you have a plan to reboot her? I'm happy to help. For a 21st century human, I'm very good with technology.”

“I don't think there's much you can do,” the Doctor said, making what Nana would have recognized as the “you have company” face at Hardison. (“Never be mad at someone in front of their company, Alec,” Nana had said, “you make the guests uncomfortable and look like a fool.”) Though in the Doctor's case, the suppressed anger probably had more to do the fact that the vulnerable, powered down TARDIS was parked in the brewpub's yard than any feelings whatsoever about them.

“We have food.” Parker broke the awkward silence. “Come eat something while you wait.”

“Why not?” conceded the Doctor with a false smile—Hardison had seen enough of them to know—and a lingering backwards glance at the TARDIS. “Let me just lock her back up first.”

The three members of the Leverage crew headed inside. Parker fetched a bundle of silverware and a menu for the Doctor’s table. Eliot went back to the kitchen to check if any orders had come in while they were chatting.

Hardison discreetly watched the Doctor from the window as he made a social media announcement about closing early today. There was no way he was spending the Doctor’s day in his universe here at the brewpub.

As the Doctor stepped through the doors, the lights flickered overhead.

“Hardison, tell your friend he can’t be playing with the brewpub’s power supply until after closing,” Eliot called from behind the grill.

“It’s not me.” The Doctor held up his hands in surrender.

“Yeah, Eliot, he can only repower the TARDIS with power from his own universe.” Hardison looked to the Doctor for confirmation. “Unless something’s changed since you visited Pete’s World.”

The Doctor’s eyebrows shot up. “I've installed a safeguard since then, but you're correct. You are a fan, aren’t you?”

“The biggest.” Hardison grinned, which didn't last long as the lights flickered again, and this time went out.

“Damn it, Hardison. Do something.”

“Eliot, I’m a geek, not an electrician. We’ll just have to finish up with these few customers and close earlier than we planned.”

“Convenient,” grumbled Eliot, as he bustled around closing down the kitchen, and directed one of their employees to bring checks to the two occupied tables. “I swear, Hardison, if I find out you did this on purpose...”

“It’s not his fault, or mine,” answered the Doctor, before Eliot could finish the threat, “and sorry to disappoint you, Parker, but I don’t think you summoned me after all.”

“I didn’t?” Parker pouted. “Then why are you here?”

The Doctor’s eyes met Hardison’s as if to say, “Any guesses?”

“Cybermen,” Hardison and the Doctor say in unison.

“Doctor, come with me,” Hardison said. “I have an idea how to narrow down the search.”

The Doctor nodded and followed Hardison.

Parker hung back. “Eliot, you coming?”

“Please tell me you planned this out as some kind of freaky scavenger hunt and we're not really blaming a power outage on an alien invasion.”

Parker's voice switched to a monotone as she repeated after Eliot, then brightened again. “Can we go now?”

“Parker,” Eliot growled as he flicked off the light switches and double checked the ovens, so everything wouldn't roar to life the minute the power came back on.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

* * *

 

Meanwhile, Hardison raced to his monitors and began running searches for nearby unusual heat signatures, then cross referenced them with data from the power companies’ energy usage maps.

The Doctor looked over his shoulder. “Cyber conversion requires a lot of power and results in some sort of output. Brilliant.”

“Another victory for the age of the geek,” Hardison said, while clicking and typing.

As soon as Parker strode into the room, she aimed the pointer definitively at a location Hardison had been considering.

“Why there, mama?” he asked. “It has…some unusual activity.”

The Doctor turned, pocketing his glasses again. “But nothing on the levels of full-scale cyber conversion operation.”

“It belongs to someone on the list. Someone I'd been hoping to go after soon,” Parker said.

Eliot stood in the doorway, arms folded. “Then aliens or no aliens, we go check it out.”

* * *

 

Hardison threw together a hasty briefing about the mark while Parker filled the Doctor in on what Leverage International did with the occasional comment or correction from Hardison or Eliot.

“Today's unlucky rich and powerful man is Frank Morton III,” Hardison began, drawing everyone's attention. The first slide was a picture of the tanned man pulled from his personal website. In a well-cut suit and designer sunglasses, he grinned down at them with perfectly straight, bright teeth. He embodied excess. “As Parker said earlier, old number three here is a member of the black file. Far as I can tell, his corruption doesn't stretch back all that far; Granddaddy Frank was a good old country doctor. He saw people come into the world, back on out of it, and helped out all places in between. His son, Frank Jr.,” Hardison clicked to a picture of the man in question, “went into the family business but decided to ply his trade at a state-of-the-art hospital connected to the university. Added a couple of zeros to the bank account.”

Eliot raised his hand. Hardison squinted at him for a long moment, before calling on him. “Eliot?”

“Is all this really necessary, or are you showing off because he’s here?” Eliot jerked a thumb in the Doctor’s direction.

“Oi,” protested the Doctor.

“‘Is all this really necessary?’” Hardison clutched a hand to his chest. “Since when have I put worthless information in a briefing? And on a man’s birthday. That's cold, Eliot. Real cold.” Hardison clicked ahead a couple of slides anyway to a map that zoomed in on a chrome and glass building.

“This,” Hardison continued, “was at the address in the file: The Morton Genetic Disease Counseling and Research Institute. On the surface, it provides genetic testing and advice on managing and coping with hereditary disease.”

“But it's also the perfect place to scam desperate clients,” Parker chimed in.

“Or entice a few into a risky upgrade,” added the Doctor.

Hardison nodded at them both and pulled up a chair.

“What do you know about what we would face inside?” Parker asked next.

“I scrounged up several sets of blueprints. I'm guessing whatever hinkiness goes on there happens in the subfloor that conveniently went away two renovations ago. Most of the building is keycard access, likely some kind of biometric security as we get closer to whatever they don't want us to find.”

The Doctor spoke first. “That's not much to go on.”

“I agree with the fake alien, which should worry you,” Eliot said. “Let's pick this up tomorrow. Make a real plan.”

Hardison swiveled in his chair. “Parker?”

She turned to address the Doctor. “Will you be here tomorrow?”

The Doctor looked up. “What, me? Not unless I'm needed, no. Want to get back before whatever dropped me here closes behind me.”

“Good, then you can go check this out, and it won't affect the con.” Parker walked away.

The Doctor sprang up, and bouncing slightly on his feet and said, “Don't suppose I could get a lift then.”

“I'll go,” Hardison said, a bit too quickly, considering neither Parker nor Eliot were likely to volunteer. He slipped an earbud in and offered one to the Doctor.

“No, er, thank you. Technology and Cybermen aren't the best mix.”

“It’s not web-enabled,” Hardison argued and pocketed the spare.

As it turned out, the hardest part of getting inside to swoop around was the guilt of posing as someone with one of these illnesses, so the Doctor took point on that, leaving Hardison to play the part of a concerned lover as he discreetly fed the Doctor information about the condition they’d chosen to fake.

More than once, Hardison worried they'd been made, but the intake nurse was probably either too busy or too greedy to care and sent the Doctor into an elevator for lab work.

As soon as the doors shut, the Doctor immediately sonicked the button panel, changing their destination. “Secret floor, here we come!”

The screwdriver also helped them past the retinal scanners attached to every door on that floor and the cameras. Of course, it helped by frying each one, which worried Hardison more than a little bit. “We don't normally break so many things. Harder to be undetected that way.”

The Doctor huffed as he shoved open another door. “Would we be less conspicuous if I went upstairs and carved out someone’s eye? Because that could still be arranged.”

Hardison shuddered, he wouldn't expect any version of the Doctor to resort that quickly to such brutal violence without anyone confirmed to be immediately at risk. “You wouldn't,” he said, more to reassure himself than to challenge the Doctor.

“Of course not. You have a better idea?” he asked as Hardison rifled through desks that contained nothing more than incriminating than office supplies.

“Nothing fast enough with only the two of us to search. The sonic it is.”

The Doctor twirled it, giving the room a quick sweep as well. “Good.”

Hardison shut the last drawer. “On to the next.”

The next room was similarly empty except it was filled with medical testing equipment, which the Doctor—somewhat glumly, Hardison noted—pronounced normal.

“Still suspicious to have a room for testing and lab work when you have more on the non-secret floors,” offered Hardison.

The Doctor nodded toward an MRI machine. “That one's been in use.”

“Ready to try door number three?” Hardison asked. The Doctor nodded and they stepped out into the hall, flattening themselves against the wall just as a woman in scrubs emerged from an adjoining room, nose buried in a file.

Hardison cocked his head toward the door she’d just emerged from. The Doctor nodded, and they sidestepped along until they reached the scanner. Hardison held his breath as the sonic whirred and the light on the scanner beeped green, convinced the woman would turn their way any second and catch them red handed.

Instead, she let herself into a room across the hall, and a second later the Doctor and Hardison had scrambled inside theirs, shutting the door behind them with a soft click.

In spite of the terror, Hardison couldn't help but smile at the rows of file cabinets. “Jackpot.” Hardison yanked opened two drawers at once. “Help me look.”

The Doctor shot him a quizzical look. “What are we looking for?”

“Unusual patient files. Financial discrepancies. Something fishier than an old folks’ home on tuna noodle Tuesday, man. Er, uh, I mean Doctor.”

“Okay…unusual for an early 21st century Earth hospital.” the Doctor's expression was doubtful as he withdrew a stack of files. He flipped through the first file and put it back.

“Look, you can speed read through entire files before I’ve even opened one. Just narrow it down. Pass me over anything that might be interesting.”

The Doctor nodded, making his way through two and a half cabinets before he extended a file to Hardison. “Page ten.” Then another. “Page seventeen, near the bottom.” They worked in silent, systematic fashion for several minutes, the Doctor reading and discarding files and Hardison replacing them in the cabinet or photographing anything deemed useful. The Doctor handed over one last file, and made his way to the door. “Here, 89-91. Then we’ve got to go.”

“There’s still cabinets left,” protested Hardison.

“Yes. And someone’s coming this way. Hurry.”

Hardison snapped the last high res pictures of the documents in question and hoped something in this small pile of evidence would prove useful in taking down Morton. Hardison managed to tuck the file back into the cabinet just as the door handle began to rattle. The Doctor and Hardison moved closer to the door and, just as the man began to pull it open, the Doctor shoved the door into him and ran.

Blindly, the Doctor and Hardison ducked into another room, only this time they weren't alone. A woman around Hardison's age occupied one of the beds, tossing and turning in fitful sleep. A woman dressed as a nurse, the same one they’d spotted leaving the file room, looked on.

Forgetting their pursuers for a moment, both the Doctor and Hardison turned their attention to the women.

“How’d you get in here?” the fake nurse asked. She seemed wholly unconcerned with her distressed patient.

“Never mind that,” snapped the Doctor. “What's wrong with her?”

“We don't know,” the fake nurse said without taking her eyes off the Doctor.

“Some nurse you are. She's clearly in pain. Even an idiot could see that.” He closed the distance between himself and the bed.

Hardison spoke up then. “He’s a doctor. Maybe he can help.”

She said nothing until the Doctor got close enough to touch, then shouted, “I found the intruders; they're in here!”

The Doctor immediately leapt out of the way. She turned to change tack and snatched at Hardison instead, but he had too much of a head start and scurried toward the door. He pulled it open, but hesitated. The Doctor grabbed Hardison's hand and dragged him into the hallway, just steps ahead of security, and slid into the elevator car. Hardison tugged hard on the emergency stop pull and stooped over for a moment.

Eliot's voice crackled to life in his ear. “What the hell is going on?”

“It wouldn't be an adventure with the Doctor without some running for my life,” Hardison replied. “We’re okay.”

The Doctor caught the flash of remorse in Hardison’s eyes as he said it. “I’m sorry. I'm so sorry.”

“We left her,” Hardison said. “We shouldn't have just left her there.”

“Even if we could have gotten her out, we don't know what she needed medically. I couldn't risk just disconnecting her and hoping she didn't die in my arms before we got out of building.”

“Leaving her here might guarantee that she does.”

“No. She won't. Because you and your team will come back for her.”

The Doctor’s confidence got Hardison to smile. “Yeah, we will.”

The Doctor grinned back at him, then glanced up at the ceiling of the car and the smile grew. It reminded Hardison of Parker seconds before she pushed him off a building.

“Doctor, I really don't like that look.”

“How do you feel about ductwork?” Without waiting for an answer, he added, “And tell your friends to meet us on the roof.”

Hardison groaned. “I should have sent you with Parker.”

One difficult and complaint-filled argument about whether or not Hardison was definitely the wrong member of Leverage for this, plus an elevator shaft climb and shimmy through the inner bowels of the Institute later, the two of them emerge on the roof.

Parker’s equipment was waiting on the roof. The Doctor and Hardison managed to gear up and rappel down before their pursuers even knew they were there.

They climbed aboard a vehicle that wasn't any of theirs.

“I borrowed it,” Eliot explained as he pulled out in the opposite direction of home. “Better to save the van for the job, as I’m assuming we still need to go after Morton. Going to drive around a bit. Make sure we’re not followed.”

Hardison nodded and sprawled out across Parker’s lap, looking drained.

The Doctor nudged Hardison. “Before you fall asleep, let me see your mobile phone.”

Hardison handed it over, curious and giddy. The Doctor sonicked it before handing it back. “Hopefully an interuniversal upgrade, in case you do run into something, cybermen or otherwise. No guarantee it will reach me, but it's better than letting Parker summon me again.”

“Hey!” Parker said, miffed.

“Sorry, I only meant because universe hopping is bad for the TARDIS.”

“I thought you said Parker had nothing to do with it?” Eliot cut in.

The Doctor shrugged. “Who really knows?”

* * *

 

Eventually they made their way back to the brewpub and the TARDIS, splitting off into pairs as Parker and Eliot headed inside. Hardison watched as the Doctor unlocked the front doors of the ship, glad to see she seemed to have an interior again.

The Doctor turned back to Hardison, leaning casually against the entranceway. “I’m afraid I can’t offer you a trip. The TARDIS can’t travel freely through a universe that isn’t her own. And I couldn’t bring you back to mine, if for no other reason than that you’re doing good work here. Can’t take you away from that.”

“I understand, Doctor.” Hardison hugged him tightly once more.

The Doctor patted Hardison. “I could invite you inside to say hello?”

“Yes!” Hardison raced inside.

He spun to take it all in, then danced around the console for a moment before hugging a coral strut. “TARDIS, can I just say, it's such an honor to meet you.”

She hummed pleasantly.

“I think she likes you,” the Doctor said fondly.

“And I think I might faint.” Hardison wobbled, gripping the console for support.

“Fainting’s all right, just please don't be sick. I’d hate to have to find a mop right now,” teased the Doctor.

Hardison laughed and, once he'd recovered from the initial wave of awe, seized the moment to ask questions until eventually Parker and Eliot appeared in the doorway.

“I think that's your cue to go.” He walked Hardison to the door.

“If I have to…” said a reluctant Hardison.

“We have cake!” Parker said. “You like cake especially Eliot’s cake!”

“You also have my psychic paper…” The Doctor fixed Parker with a look and held out a hand, palm up.

Parker sighed theatrically, digging the flat wallet out of her pocket and handing it over, her fingers lingering. “How’d you know?”

“From one thief to another? I'm just that good.” The Doctor winked. “If you really want it, I could keep Alec instead? Won’t need psychic paper with him on board.”

Parker let go immediately and tugged Hardison the rest of the way outside the TARDIS.

The Doctor smiled at that as he shuttered the doors behind the Leverage crew. Moments later, the engine started up and the TARDIS dematerialized.

“Best birthday ever!” Hardison declared. And as he slung his arms around Eliot and Parker, they couldn't help but agree.

**Author's Note:**

> Rivulet, I hope you enjoyed my dragging the Doctor on a Leverage-style adventure.
> 
> Thank you very much to tigerbright and tuesday for their incredible beta work.
> 
> Lastly, despite that we only met the bad guys in this story, genetic counselors are amazing people. No offense intended to their important work or the people they serve.


End file.
